The wind's a graceful movement of voices and withering sighs.
And you're just a fleeting apparition, a memory I need to let go. A song that's lost its melody, a poem without metaphors, a day with no sunset, and a coffee shop devoid of unknown artists.
You're empty.
You're just like me.
Of rainy days, cloudy skies, fiction, Korean music, pretty boys, agoraphobia, thoughts on paper, and the scent of rain on dry earth.
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